A/N: Thank you for the reviews! Here's the next chapter - there is some slight flexibility with English law here, but please excuse ;)

Chapter Forty Four

When Helena awoke, it was as though her brain had been whirring around in her sleep, coming up with a fully-formed backup plan ready to present as soon as she was conscious. Safe houses. They needed safe houses. They needed asset division. Sirius stirring beneath her muted the line of thought, but she moved it to the back of her mind to mature a bit more. She'd need Lily's help with some of it.

Judging by the dying embers in the fireplace, they'd slept for a few hours. It was dark still, this end of the great hall lit only by candles. Someone had thrown a blanket over the pair of them; she imagined it had been McGonagall. 'Maternal' wasn't an adjective probably thrown at their former schoolmistress often, but Helena knew better than most how kind she could be when she had cause. However, at the moment she was nowhere in sight. Putting a hand up to massage the crick in her neck, she gently pulled herself off her lover's lap and rearranged the blanket to cover him. He muttered something in his sleep, but settled when she kissed his cheek.

"Sleep, Padfoot. It's alright."

"I imagine a good night's rest has been hard to come by for the two of you," Dumbledore's soft voice rustled.

She turned to face him. "You could say that. And just when we've got rid of one problem … Is there somewhere else we can talk?"

"Certainly. I believe the kitchen is this way, and I for one could do with a good cup of tea, couldn't you?"

"Merlin's beard, yes."

The kitchen was somewhat cavernous, but relatively cosy compared to the great hall. The two of them sat at the trestle table while the tea things whirled about the room, making the beverage themselves. "She's gone," was the first thing Helena said.

"You're sure?"

"Yes. I don't think it'll be smooth sailing from here on, of course, and I imagine in times when I feel conflicted it might be dangerous, but – there is no Lady V anymore. It's all me. It's just that I have dark bits to my nature. Bits that I can't always deny."

"Such as?"

"I killed two Death Eaters today. One of them with the Killing Curse. I wanted them to be afraid of me before they died, and they were. And then I murdered them. Well, murdered one of them. The other one it was him or Sirius, so …" She trailed off, her attempt at humour dying feebly under the light of Dumbledore's gaze. "I don't regret it," she added. "It had to be done. But, until it has to be done again, I don't feel I want to do it." She chanced a look up at him, instead of the table surface. "Do you think- Am I safe?"

"As safe as any of us are, I suppose."

Another kind of relief floated down over her. The kind of reassurance only a parent or a teacher could give. "There's another thing, Professor, what Sirius and I came to tell you, primarily. We didn't leave the cottage until after the Death Eaters came. They knew where to find us. So any operations you have in place, anything you have planned that other people are aware of – it's all at risk, Dumbledore. We're betrayed from within."

Dumbledore's only reaction was to lean backwards and let out a nearly-silent sigh. After a few moments, he said, "I see. Do you-"

"Sirius thinks Remus."

"But you disagree?"

"I don't know. I can't imagine it of any of them. It almost doesn't matter who the traitor is – it's awful in any case. I'm more concerned with the people who are at risk. Particularly our two newest additions."

"Indeed. What will you do now? With Octavia Fantaine in place you can hardly return to St Mungo's."

"Actually, Octavia has been permanently displaced."

Another surprise for him. "And does Voldemort know?"

She touched the dark mark, over her sleeve. "Possibly. But he hasn't done anything about it yet. Lady V might be gone but I can't imagine this has lost any of its potency."

She didn't say anything of her confidence in her ability to resist him, and Dumbledore did not ask, apparently comfortable to trust her. "You don't intend to run."

"Not unless everything is lost."

"So you will go back to your work, Mr. Black to his – and do what?"

"Pretend that nothing is amiss, I suppose. Isn't that how one survives, in a war like this?" she asked. "Other than that … anything you need me to, to keep the Order going. Can we go home?"

"We have renewed the spells upon your house, so I do not see why not. All that remains is the Fidelius Charm. I suggest someone you trust absolutely to be secret-keeper."

"I do trust you, Dumbledore."

"Still? Clearly something in my judgement is lacking, my dear."

She had to smile wryly at that, though she didn't agree with him. "Alright. I'll discuss it with Sirius and we'll come to a decision as soon as we can." There was a silence for a moment, before she said, "Thank you, Dumbledore. It would have been far safer to kill me, you know."

He made no answer to that. Soon afterwards, she went to wake Sirius, and they returned to the house in Kensington. It was clear that they hadn't been expected to return for a long time; most of the furniture was covered with white dust covers and blinds had been drawn down over the windows. Their foosteps sounded simultaneously muffled and echoey when they came out of the fireplace in the library.

"Home sweet home …" Sirius muttered.

Helena flicked her wand at the ceiling, and the room was softly illuminated. Another flick removed the dust covers from two armchairs. "It's not so bad really. I'll make some breakfast and-"

He caught her hand and pulled her around. "Later. Later."

"Oh. Not hungry?" she teased.

Not for food, clearly, and Helena was scarcely less eager. They took their time getting up the stairs, stopping every few steps to share another soul-affirming kiss and shed another layer of clothing. Blinds came up as they went, letting the lilac sunrise come through. Helena was unsure whether her magic or Sirius' had removed the sheets from the furniture, but her bed was clear when the door opened to admit them. Helena couldn't remember a time when her desire for him had been so mixed with happiness and freedom. Struck solemn by it for a moment, she pulled away.

"What? What is it?"

"I just … You make me feel … young, Padfoot."

A dark eyebrow was raised. "As opposed to the seventy five year old you are really?"

"No, I mean I don't have any fears now. You make me brave, Sirius."

"And not old?"

"No."

"Don't want me to check for anything that might be sagging? Or wrinkly?"

She backed off and stood in the middle of the room, entirely naked, and put her arms out. "You tell me."

She turned slowly on the spot, grinning at the expression on his handsome face. His eyes were alight with hunger and just as much glee as she felt. She gave him one, two, three … She was ready when he moved towards her, mouths crushing together. She moaned as his fingers ghosted up her sides to the curves of her breasts. Love me, Sirius … love me.

It somehow could not have been more romantic if there were rose petals sprinkled across the bed – they didn't rush to joining their bodies, conscious that there was always going to be time for that. Helena wanted to map him, with fingers, lips and tongue. She discovered, somehow, a new sensitive spot on his body; running her nails lightly over his shoulders in slow, small spirals produced a soft, low hiss and his teeth nipping suddenly at her lips. He found a way to retaliate, lingering in the hollow of her hip where it was totally incongruous that she should feel sensation as intensely as she did there, and when his lips closed around a nipple, she arched off the bed, tangling her fingers briefly through his hair. Her legs fell open, cradling his hips above hers. Sirius wasn't through making her feel entirely worshipped though – he moved further down her body, fingers sliding to her slick folds and mouth finding her clit. With two fingers inside her, crooked to unerringly find her g-spot, and that talented tongue flicking the bundle of nerves, it was mere seconds before for a moment, she felt, rather than saw, Sirius' grin and chuckle against her skin.

Breathless, she rolled into his arms. "I love you. Merlin's beard, I love you."

"Merlin? I don't think Merlin had much to do with that, Hellfire," he teased. "Honestly, these fiancees …"

She stilled and opened her eyes. There was a smile in his eyes, but his mouth had gone serious. "Fiancee?" she asked. "Are you sure?"

"If you still want me, yeah."

"I still want to be. If you're definitely sure."

He pulled her to him for a kiss. "I'm sure. Being married to you can't possibly be more trouble than this has been so far."

"Oh, you think you've seen trouble? I'll show you trouble," she promised, straddling him.

She pushed her hips down slowly, feeling every exquisite inch of him fill her up. They moved gently, deep and passionate, every human being outside this room simply ceasing to exist. The mutual climax came in waves, each one higher up the shoreline, searing its presence on their nerves. Helena felt she could see it coming, a bright white spot on the inside of her eyelids. But it still blew her mind away when it hit.

In the aftermath, the two of them relaxed in the buzzing silence, enjoying making the other shiver by a caress here or there.

At dinner, later (Pad Thai), Sirius put his wineglass down and asked, "So now what?"

"Dumbledore said normality. Or pretend that things are normal anyway. It's funny … a year ago I'd have said I didn't know how to pretend like that."

"Course you did. We all did. Living at Hogwarts ignoring the war going on outside the walls? Deliberately not seeing three illegal animagi and a werewolf living in the same tower as you? Me refusing to see you were having a breakdown, and believing you were just being a bitch? We all pretend, Hellfire. We have for a long time."

"So what, our whole lives are built on lies?"

"No. The foundations are there," he said. "We're still the good guys."

Normality, as it turned out, wasn't hard to achieve. Work at St Mungo's kept Helena as busy as she ever remembered being. She rediscovered her passion for new knowledge – there were no two days the same, no two patients with identical symptoms, unless a potions factory had suffered an industrial accident. Without the spectre of Octavia breathing down her neck, she could relax. The new supervising healer, Glynn Teronda, came in with the sleeves of his lime green robes rolled up to his elbows, so she wasn't worried about him. Her own darkness intruded, admittedly, more than she would have liked. A couple of times she found the urge to cast the Imperius Curse at the forefront of her mind – once with an agressive patient and once with an aggressive relative. Both times, she let the scene play out in her imagination, exploring all the angles. She could exert her will. She could bend and manipulate those other human beings. They would be made to calm down. She would be able to get on with her job. She could extend her spell and have living puppets, empty but for their desire to enact her wishes.

Her imagination did not start turning into action.

Outside of the hospital, her life revolved around various Order members. Sirius, of course, but as far as missions went, she was happily limited to open operations. When there were Death Eater bases to be stormed, a battle expected, she and the others were called on, especially when she could take what would have been Lily's place. She hadn't stopped using dark magic completely – the Unforgiveables, certainly, but things that would come in handy, she'd kept practicing. There were definitely some vicious bastards in her father's organisation who deserved the Entrail Expelling Curse. And properly contained Fiend Fyre could be just as useful as a defensive spell as an offensive one. Highly convenient for engineering a quick escape. The necessity for a quick escape was becoming more and more frequent. She tried not to think about it too much, because if something didn't change soon, they were going to lose. Right when they had so much to live for.

She and Padfoot hadn't bothered with wedding planning, and they wouldn't bother with the big white celebration either. One thing they'd learned about their relationship was that the more low-key things were, the better. The biggest social event coming up was Harry's Christening. To her perhaps eternal surprise (and gratitude), Lily and James had decided that they really did want their son to have godparents as likely to lead him astray as Helena and Sirius. Possibly James hadn't thought as far ahead as them encouraging his teenaged son to get a motorbike.

The Christening would be taking place this coming Sunday morning, at Godric's Hollow, in the same church Lily and James had been married in. Helena had bought a new dress for the occasion – pale green, with white lace at the cuffs and collar. She'd even dragged Sirius to get him a suit, which Lily said was muggle formal wear. He'd protested against it, but had eventually acquiesced, which she was glad of. The suit certainly fitted him better than robes would have done, and she'd just managed to stop her mouth from watering merely at the sight of him. She was a lucky girl. And smug, too, when they entered the church and almost every woman decided an ogle was in order.

The church was packed with well-wishes and friends. Well remembering what had happened with Lily and James' wedding, every protective charm available had been laid on the building. Plus God's protection, whatever that was worth. Harry was dressed in a traditional gown, which was long and white and made him look like a small, highly adorable ghost. After welcoming them all to the church, the vicar invited Harry, his parents and godparents, to gather around the font at the front of the church. On their son's behalf, he asked Lily and James if they were prepared to renounce all evil, and live according to Christ. Both Helena and Sirius watched the proceedings with not a little scepticism. Neither of them were religious at all, and while she'd never read the Bible (or picked one up), she definitely remembered something about witchcraft and magic being absolutely prohibited under 'God's law'. Still, if it was what Lily and James wanted …

The vicar turned to the two of them. "Helena and Sirius, do you, as Harry's godparents, promise to provide him with spiritual and emotional guidance he might need? Do you promise to care for him if his parents are unable."

"Yes."

"I promise too."

The vicar made the sign of the cross in water on Harry's forehead, then once more words concerning Christ had been said, he poured more water over the baby, wetting tufts of black hair. His little face wrinkled, and for a moment it looked like he might cry, but Sirius tickled him quickly under the chin, and his frown smoothed into a rest of the ceremony passed reasonably quickly, and finally the congregation murmured some formal words of welcome to make things final. Harry had now been officially welcomed into the church and they had to start being grownups.

Though that happened sooner than Helena was anticipating. It seemed to be rather a conspiracy, since James was suddenly pulling out a small black box and Lily was conjuring a bouquet of flowers and holding them out to her, the vicar was looking very pleased. Then there was Sirius, stepping up next to her.

"Shall we?"

She eyed his outstretched hand. "Shall we what?"

"Get married."

She blinked, startled. "Now?"

"Yes now. We're in a church, Lily and James are here—let's just do it."

Harry added his agreement by clapping and laughing adorably. Helena was still stunned. "Sirius, that was the worst proposal I've ever heard. And you've proposed three times now."

"Helena, just shut up and marry me, okay?"

She nodded. He took her hand. "That wasn't very romantic, you know," she whispered.

"Romantic? How many times have I let you try to kill me now?"

"Fair point."

The vicar blinked, looking rather surprised at their discourse, but he cleared his throat with a smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've come here today for another ceremony as well – something most of you may not have been aware of. Certainly the bride wasn't," he added, to chuckles from the congregation. "However, it is an occasion at least as joyful as the last. Helena and Sirius have come to be joined together in holy matrimony, before their family and friends. Before we begin, I must ask you both if you stand here today for your own free will?"

"I do."

Helena nodded. "I do."

"Do you, Helena Malfoy, before this congregation and in the sight of God, promise to love, comfort, honour and keep this man, to be your lawful wedded husband?"

"I do."

"Do you, Sirius Black, before this congregation and in the sight of God, promise to love, comfort, honour and keep this woman, to be your lawful wedded wife?"

"I do."

"Now you will make your vows. Face one another. Helena, repeat after me. 'I, Helena Malfoy, take thee, Sirius Black …'"

An hour ago, though she didn't want the big to-do, Helena would have asked for perhaps a little preparation time. At least a week or so, preferably. That hadn't happened. But still, this felt right. No fuss, no muss. She gave her vow freely to Sirius, the words coming easily from her tongue. Sirius seemed younger and happier than she'd seen him in a long time.

Grinning broadly, she said, "I, Helena Malfoy, take thee, Sirius Black ..."

The two ceremonies concluded with a gathering at the village pub. The resulting celebration saw everyone very merry and more than a little bit tipsy. Apart from the baby.

A/N: Review please!